In A Minute
by Dessers
Summary: "Love doesn't come it a minute, sometimes it doesn't come at all." Santana uses Sam as a beard and gets a little more than she bargained for. Sam/Santana friendship, Brittany/Santana romance.
1. Silly Loves Songs

**So, yeah, I know I don't need another project going and all, but... Oh, well. This idea's been bouncing around in my head for a while, so I present you my next short-story: my kick-ass Samtana friendship story. It's going span over Silly Love Songs to New York, maybe with an epilogue. It's kind of an AU because since it's Samtana, Sam is going to be Santana's beard and she's exploring her sexuality still, but she confused to whether she's a bi and lesbian. Brittana will definitely be addressed, it's a big part of the story. Sam and Santana probably won't end up together romantically, but they'll be total BFFs. Basically this story is a lot of character development for them, Santana finding out who she is, and hopefully witty and funny banter.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

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><p>It's Valentine's Day, and it's<em> absolutely<em> official, my life sucks.

I'm sitting at Breadstix, all alone at a table, while watching all the happy couples suck face. The thing is, I'm fully capable of get a date. Just not with who I want to be with. I mean it's not like I look like Berry, I'm _hot._ I definitely the hottest girl at McKinley. I don't mean to sound conceited, except that I am full of it, but people find me attractive. And if I say so myself, I have got _oodles_ of personality. Call me a bitch, because I am, but I have a sense of humor. A vindictive twisted sense if humor, but it's there.

Mike and Tina are making out, while the Warblers prepare to prance around singing about love. Which is frankly just annoying. And Blaine keeps darting Kurt secretive little looks. So I wonder why he isn't in Hummel's pants already. Even Berry, a loveless loser is here.

Finally, my eyes rest on Brittany and Artie, ripping the scab off the throbbing wound on my broken heart.

Honestly, to any bystander, they might mistake Brittany and Artie as a crazy kids who ransacked Goodwill for clothes. Artie's clad in a zip-up red blazer, that's just about as 80s as Mr. Shue's hair - which frankly freaks me out a bit, his biker gloves, and checkered bow-tie. Brittany looks cute, in her little beanie, over-sized pink sweater, short-shorts, and knee socks. But, then again, Brittany always looks adorable.

The Warblers start getting into formation on the risers, and everyone's getting quieter. I debate whether or not to flag down my favorite waitress, an oldie named Florence who always calls Puck 'a no-account hoodlum with ridiculous hair', to ask for a drink or something. But I remember nosy Florence will probably wave to Brittany and I'll have acknowledge she's in the room with someone else who isn't me.

As I try to sink lower into my chair, I glance briefly at Brittany. Trust me, it hurts to have a girl you're in love with flaunting her relationship with another _guy_ in your face. _On Valentine's Day._ But as my eyes sweep over Brittany and Artie, I find my self locking eyes with Sam. He gives me a ridiculously big trouty-mouth grin that lights up his whole face. And, despite how dejected I feel, I smile back and even wave a little. It's not even a smirk or a smug grin, it's just a genuine smile. Something inside me stirs a bit and I wonder suddenly why I was smiling at Sam in first place.

Before I can analyze it any further, Kurt announces they're going to start singing. Blaine, Kurt's super fine Warbler boy-toy, is the lead and he starts serenading Breadstix with some Paul McCartney song. The song is smooth and it's pretty good, too. Some of the back up singers are pretty hot and I consider making-out with the blond one later, but I know I'll only end up thinking about another blond and feeling hollow inside.

_"Love doesn't come in a minute," _Blaine swaggers up to me. I grin; I'm getting a little song shout-out. Just what I need to brighten up my day a little.

My Valentine's Day was mostly spent brooding and the throwing those stupid candy hearts at Freshmen. Well, y'know, besides giving Finn and Quinn mono. What can I say? I'm a busy girl. Even, with my meddle-some antics, it wasn't the best one in my memory. Usually, Britt and I watch romantic comedies while I bad-mouth guys and Brittany eats candies. And we might make-out a little.

_"Sometimes it doesn't come at all, (Doesn't come at all...)," _Blaine sings, charmingly trash-talking me. I can feel a red-hot blush creeping up into my cheeks. Mortified and furious, I can hear all the people in the restaurant snickering at me.

__Cogida!_ _That... that..._ hijo de una perra! _My brain is peppered with Spanish profanity that would make Shuester blush like a schoolgirl. Anger, pure and unadulterated, courses through my veins and I want nothing more than to rip Blaine limb from limb. I honestly can't bring myself to care Kurt's in love with him. Kurt can find a new piece of man candy. I want Anderson _dead._ In Lima Heights Adjacent we bury the bodies in the dumpster.

I can feel the stares on me. Sam and Brittany's especially. I swallow stiffly and try not to cry. Digging my manicured nails into the palms of my hands, I take deep even breaths. I want Brittany to come over and link pinkies with me. She'd nuzzle my neck, and I'd chide her because we're in public. But I would be able to smile again.

But Brittany's too wrapped up with Artie to do anything more than shoot me a sympathetic look.

I bite my lip and look away from her.

The Warblers finish up there performance and Kurt's chatting with a few members of New Directions, but I just want to leave. I actually kind of like Kurt, honestly. Brittany affectionately calls him her, _"boo"_. If Brittz likes him that much, well, that's good enough for me.

He's bitchy, I'm a bitch. He's gay, I'm bi-curious or lesbian or _something_. Mostly confused as hell. He could totally be my snarky gay fairy-godmother. But instead exchanging snide comments with him, I just want to crawl in a hole hide until I'm not embarrassed anymore.

I walk out on my high-heeled boots, trying to look authoritative and fierce. But inside I know I'm probably failing. I step outside of Breadstix and realize I have no ride. My car's in the garage. My dad dropped me off, but I really don't want call him. Plus, he's probably at work. He's always at work.

Usually, I'd just have Britt give me a ride home, but I don't want to be the sullen third wheel in the back while she and Artie make googly eyes at each other.

Slowly, I sink down against the brick wall of the restaurant. I can hear the laughter inside and it just made me feel even more downtrodden. I wanted to lock myself in my room, curl up under my coves, and play sad love songs as loud as I could before my mom screamed at me. Or I could douse Wheels in gasoline and strike a match. The latter is much more tempting but much more illegal.

"Santana?" I look up. Sam was standing in front of me, looking down at my quizzically. "Need ride home?"

He held his hand out to me. Swallowing, I reach for it, "Thanks, Guppers."

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><p>Sam drives a blue crapola Mustang, circa 1967. The leather upholstery is worn and torn. There's a fairly wide crack in the mirror, which also had a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from it. Sam's stinky gym bag is on floor, with his shorts sticking out. I scowled. Maybe I should've just dealt with a ride from Brittany and Artie... Greasy fast-food wrappers and forgotten homework assignments litter the floor. In short, it's a whole lot different than my usual standards. I drive a posh little red car Daddy got me for my sweet sixteenth. It's brand new and shiny, with all the best upgrades.<p>

Seeing my hesitation to get into his filthy car, Sam gives me a look, "Getting in, Santana?"

"Your car's disgusting, Fish." I snap, narrowing my eyes, but getting in, "I better not get shit on my shoes. They're Christian Louboutin and super expensive."

Yeah, I know I shouldn't probably be chewing out the guy giving me a ride home. He could kick my ass out of the Mustang in a nanosecond. But, y'know, I don't do grateful all too well. As my brother Javier always says, I like to test people.

Plus, these heels are devil-red and awesome.

Sam just kind of rolled his eyes at me and started the engine.

"Where's your car, Santana?" Sam asks as he backed out of the parking way.

"The garage. Puckerman must've thought it would be funny to jack with my car." I growl. I have a rule-of-thumb: if something bad happens to my stuff it's Puck's fault. Don't ask why; it just always is. I can read that boy like Cat in the Hat.

"Why do you assume Puck did it?" He quirks a suspiciously brown eyebrow.

"Because he's Puck!" I sputter, "I don't see why you're defending him. You know Finn's not the only one after your girlfriend."

Sam's face gives a little spasm of hurt. He pushes up the sleeves of his Letterman jacket, "You like to tear people down, Santana."

"Do you not know me?" I retort, checking my manicure.

"No, not many people actually do." Sam says quietly as he pulls to a stop onto the corner of Cherokee and Faltman. "Which turn is yours?"

"What does that mean, Evans?" I snap, crossing my arms, "It's the next one on the left. Right into Park Woods."

"It means you don't let people get to know you. You put up... walls, y'know?" He gestures vaguely with one hand, "Oh, which house is yours?"

"So what if I do? Maybe I don't want people to know me!" I fume, "It's the biggest one, up the hill."

"Okay, okay. Maybe I don't." Sam relents, zooming up the road to my driveway. "Here we are, Santana."

"Thank you, Guppy Lips." I say curtly, turning on my heel and slamming the door. To my surprise Sam jumps out of the car and follows me to the door. "Uh, what exactly are you doing?"

"Walking you to the door," Sam informs me dubiously, "It's only polite."

"Oh, aren't you the perfect gentleman?" I sneer, rummaging through my over-sized designer purse for my key. I know Mother isn't home, and I'm doubtful Daddy is. But on the off-chance he is and Javier crashed on the couch, I don't want to wake anyone up at 11:00 with the noisy garage door. My family is full of crabby people when awoken unexpectedly. I should know; I'm the worst.

"I tend grow on people." Sam admits, grinning. He flips his blond hair out of his eyes and I have the urge to roll my eyes but I repress it.

"Like a deadly fungus..." I mutter, finding my key and jiggling it in the lock. My door swings open and I flick my gaze at him, "You can leave, Fishy."

"Bye, see you at school." Sam turns and walks to car then opens the door.

"Hey, Trouty Mouth!"

"Yeah, Santana?"

"Your mouth is _huge_. Did anyone ever mention that?"

"Maybe once or twice."

Little did I know the abnormally Trouty-Mouthed boy would eventually become one of the most important people in my life.

Because a fake blond dork with a humongous mouth, no game, and a Star Trek problem couldn't matter to me, right?


	2. Comeback

"Did you actually think the whole Beiber plan would work?" I ask Sam, tapping my nails on my kitchen table. I mean, as entertaining as the Beibs impersonation was, it was a pretty far-fetched way to win Quinn back. Sam was still wearing his stupid purple hoodie and had his hair all long. I suppressed the urge to snip off his Beiber bangs and burn the jacket.

Since Sam and I where officially a "couple" or something I decided to invite over to do what all my new boy-toys and I do: get are mack on. But after a while Sam started doing the unspeakable: talking about his feelings and shit. I hate talking about feelings. I'm quite emotionally repressed actually. All the guys I've ever hooked up with, they knew not to even talk to me. At all. Puck, and even Brittany, knows never to talk about my feelings with me.

Apparently, Sam didn't get the memo.

So, Sam is analyzing his sham of a relationship with Quinn, while I wait for the my Thai take-out to hurry up and get here already. I have to remember not give the delivery boy a tip and just throw the fortune cookies at him. Weren't Asians supposed to be fast and reckless drivers? Apparently, not this one. I'll have to ask Glee Club's residents Asian and Other Asian.

"Yes...no... maybe... God, I don't even know." Sam sighs, "Santana, I want you to tell me something. And be honest."

"I'll be so honest it fucking hurts, Sammy Boy."

"Did Quinn ever even like me?" Sam asks, subtle vulnerability in his voice. He stares down at his hands.

I bite my lip for a moment, deciding how to go about this, "Finn's just her way of desperately clawing back her former status. I sincerely doubt she gives a damn about him. Quinn and Puck... They have unresolved issues..."

"And that means...?" He prompts, impatiently. He's hunched over in his chair, nervously. His eyes are locked on mine, with such intensity I have to look away. I stare at the chrome coffee machine on my counter for a few seconds before responding.

"Okay, I'll tell you like I see it. Quinn and Finn were the 'it' couple last year. Y'know, the Quarter Back and Head Cheerio. Super cliche. But then Quinnie got preggo. But she and Finn hadn't done the nasty. Good thing for Miss Chastiy Ball, Finn has the IQ of a toddler that got smacked in the face with a brick. So she concocted a transparent story about her getting pregnant in a hot-tub."

"But, wait... you can't get pregnant in a hot-tub." Sam interrupts.

"Duh, Aqua Man!" Aqua Man. That's new one. I'm keeping it, I decide. "Quinn cheated on Finn and got it on with Puckerman. Which was a big deal because she was the president of the celibacy club and Miss Holier-Than-Thou. So, she lied and said it was Finnocence's. And we all know Puck's a total man-whore. Y'know, like Mr. Shue."

"So lemme get this straight, Quinn cheated on Finn with Puck resulting in her pregnancy. And Shuester is a... man-whore?"

"You learn so fast!" I whistle, rolling my eyes. I was loosing interest in the conversation. So, to keep myself from dozing off, I tried to remember where I had gotten the cute floral bustier dress-thing I had on. Was it Forever XI or Love Culture?

"But, then Quinn lied about it, right? That doesn't sound like her..." He says, unsure.

"People might think Quinn's just a fucking _angel_. But in reality she can just a devious as me if she wants to." I growl. Why does Quinn get everything? And I get nothing?

"But, you, like, excel a plotting revenge. I gotta say the whole Mono thing was pretty genius." Sam admits, smiling a little.

I feel a warm flush of happiness seep through my body. I grin, genuinely pleased, "No need to flatter me, Evans."

" Another thing... You talk about Quinn like you hate her... Weren't you two friends, though?" He asks, quizzically, like someone's given him half of a puzzle and expects him to solve it.

I stop, caught up in a whorl-wind of memories. Memories of Freshman year. Before the competition for Head Cheerio kicked in, before the baby daddy drama, before Quinn and I couldn't even hold a civil conversation together. Back when Quinn, Brittany, and I were all best friends. We used to have weekly sleepovers, we'd stay up all night giggling and gossiping.

I miss those days. Everything was so... _uncomplicated._

Sometimes, I wonder what exactly happened to us. But, I try not to think about much. Somethings just hurt a little too much._  
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"Uh, I..." For once in my life, I completely at loss of what to say. I don't want to say anything, really._  
><em>

Just then the doorbell dings._ Saved by the bell,_ I think ironically.

_"Finally!"_ I huff, as I get up. Sam snickers at my impatience. Straightening my ponytail, I saunter to the door. I swing it open, ready to chew out my stupid delivery-boy, to find...

Mike Chang?

I squint at Mike's embarrassed face, "Chang? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh...delivering your Pad Thai and Basil Beef Curry?" He suggests, holding up the take-out containers, looking like he's going to break in a sprint away from me.

"Yes, I get that, dumbass. But why are you a Thai Palace delivery guy?" I actually really want to know. Mike's family isn't in need of quick cash or anything. His dad's a lawyer.

"Uh," He clears his throat, "My parents, they don't want me to dance. But I want- I _need_ to, y'know? So, I got a job to pay the tuition at my studio, because they won't."

I grab the containers from him and dig out a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet, then toss it to him. "There. Now if you're ever going to be delivering my food again, it sure as hell better not be late."

"But... Santana! This is a hundred! It's only $17.26 with tax!"

See? This is the problem with me trying to be nice! No one can comprehend what's happening.

"Mike. I'm giving you money. You need money. Take the money. This isn't that hard." I sigh impatiently. Mike kind of nods and gulps, nervously.

Then I slam the door shut.

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><p>Sam was persistent, I'll give him that. More persistent than any guy I've ever dated or hooked up with. He was really intent on this whole "getting to know you" thing.<p>

All the random guys I'd been with only wanted me for one thing - and I only wanted them for thing, too. Puck and Brittany are a different story.

Puck and I are bros, if that makes any sense at all. I'm a bi-maybe-a-lesbian, so maybe in some wacko alternate universe it works. But, we both have a thing for two certain blond ex-Cheerios, booze, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, and sex. We get along nicely, when I'm not pissed off at him or scheming something.

Brittany...Well, I've never quite loved anyone the way I love Brittany. She knows me inside and out. She always knows how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking and just how to cheer me up. In almost every way Britt completes me. i don't know how to explain it any better.

Sam was trying, but I wasn't ready to let someone else actually know. Stuff like that entailed vulnerability on my part. And I _hate_ being vulnerable.

So, to put off Sam's probing getting-to=know=you questions, I dragged him to a movie. But, now, the movie was over and I'm starving.

So, that's how against my better judgment, the two of us ended at Wendy's. I caved for a Fiesta Turkey Wrap and a Frosty.

"Look, Fish, we have got to set some ground rules." I announce, as we're sitting in my car at a Wendys parking lot. I had elected to take my car because, as I told Sam, I think there's dead animals hidden under that suspicious-smelling wrapper from McDonald's.

"Ground rules?" Sam chuckles, digging into his chicken sandwich, "Like what?"

"Let's get this straight, this isn't a real relationship. We're not 'in love' or anything." I clarify with a glare, "You just want to get back at Stretch Marks for cheating on you with Frankenteen and I just hate her."

"I know this isn't a real boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but can we be friends, San?" He asks, and I can't help but be surprised. Friendship is kind of foreign territory to me. I mean my love for people is kind of stingy. I love three people in this world: my Daddy, my brother, and Brittany. I don't really think there's room for anyone else.

"Maybe..." I consent, hesitantly, twirling the straw on my Frosty, "But no public displays of friendship. We can get our mack on in public, but no, like, friendly displays of _affection_. Or I will ends you, understood?"

"Damn. I already had our friendship ship bracelets engraved _Samtana BFFL! _Y'know, Best Friends For Life_." _Sam grins. I have to give credit to Guppy Mouth; he's cheekier than I thought, "They had a bunch of hearts on them, too."

"Friendship bracelets?" I snort, "_BFFL_? Really, what are you? A sixth grade girl? Well, you do listen to the Beibs, so you're in the right age group..."

"Hurtful! And, please, you_ know_ you like Justin Beiber." Sam teases me, and for some reason I find myself chuckling. This actually kind of enjoyable. I mean like a fatal disease, of course. It's not like I might _like_ being friends with Sam Evans. Definitely not.

"So tell me about yourself, Santana," Sam wiggles his eyebrows, flicking around his hair in a fake creepy way.

I bite the insides of my cheeks, because I want to laugh, but don't want to give Sam the pleasure, "Seriously, Evans?"

"What?" He laughs, indignantly.

"I'm pretty sure that's what pedophiles say to young unsuspecting victims."

"Seriously, Santana, if we're going to be friends I want to know you." Sam says, looking my straight in the eyes.

"Okay, okay. What do you want to know?" I raise a single eyebrow.

"Everything."

"Uh, okay... So, where to start? My middle name in Mariana. I have an older brother named, Javier. He's a cop, and the only reason I've never been arrested for a DUI. Some of my high-heels have knives hidden in them, so watch out; you never know when I might stab you. Rachel Berry and I are secret BFFs. I enjoy burning things. My dad's a doctor. I just want somebody to love me. My mom's an alcoholic and cheating on my dad. I hate tacos. I think Means Girls is the most kick-ass movie ever. I never drink coffee. Oh, and I've killed a man. Anything I forgot, Guppers?"

"I'm not sure how much of that I can believe." Sam chuckles.

"That is what's fun about me Evans. I keep you guessing." I smirk.

"So... I'm guessing you haven't killed a man. I also can safely say, you and Rachel Berry are not friends." He says, looking a little confused.

"Well, I'll admit I want to tar and feather Berry, but killing someone? You'll never know."

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><p><strong>OH MY GOD, SHE'S UPDATING! I know, I know. I'm horrible! I'm the worst updater everrr. I'll spare you my excuses.<strong>

**Sorry, this chapter didn't have much of a plot, but right now it's just Sam and Santana beginning their friendship. They WILL be BFFLs. Promise.**

**Reviews are my kind of love!**


	3. Blame It On The Alcohol

**Thank you all for the reviews. I hope you like this chapter, 'cause I loved it. I love Sam and Santana's banter. And drunk Santana. I can't wait until I add Brittany to the mix. I have a great line for her planned that involves pirates.  
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** I'm going to start introducing some hardcore Samtana bonding and some angsty Brittana. Get excited!**

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><p>My pining for Brittany has gotten to the point where it's obsessive. There is barely a second when my thoughts aren't filled her. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes...<p>

I'm sitting in Advanced English class, listening to Ms. Hauser drone on and on about Hemingway. I'm absently doodling until I glance down at the paper. It's covered in pink sharpie hearts with the words _Brittana,_ _Brittany_, and _Santana + Brittany_.

I swear, I think I'm going crazy.

I practically sigh when Brittany walks past. I can't even speak to Artie without 'accidentally' ramming him into a row of lockers. It's his fault Britt and I aren't together, really. He's the one in the way.

Up until a few weeks ago, Britt and I kept up our friends with benefits relationship. Neither of us had ever been good at monogamy. I'm not sure Brittz even understands the whole concept on cheating and, for admittedly selfish reasons, I've never really clued her in.

_"I'm a girl and you're a girl, Britt-Britt. So it's not really cheating...the plumbing totally different."_

But, either way, Brittany and I - we've hardly ever been in real lasting relationships. Well... I was in one with a guy once... But look where that got me. Hating most guys and possibly a lesbian. Anyway, Brittany and I never needed stupid guys when we had each other.

It just that now sometimes when I text her to get over to my house, she just _ignores_ me. She blows me off for_ Artie_, of all people.

What does he have that I don't? I'm better than him, I love her more than he does. I just know it.

Because of my rage over Brittany and Artie, I've been more bitchy and short-tempered than ever. I snap at everyone. I slapped a Freshman yesterday for walking past me. Even I know I'm being ridiculous. It's gotten to the point were only Sam barely stand me.

I think Sam knows I'm in love with someone. Because it's gotten to the point where it's too much to keep bottle up. I'll just explode on him sometimes. And thank God, he just listens. I rant about how much I love "him". (Well, I can't say _her_, can I?) Sam and I trust each other now. It's weird, but nice. Nice to have someone to talk for once in my life.

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><p>"Are we going to Rachel's party thing?" Sam asks, as I'm pulling out of the McKinley parking lot. I still won't let him drive me around in his shitty car. I have standards, you know.<p>

"Puh-lease, Evans. I _am_ the party." I scoff, like I always do. Like he's said something stupid.

"I thought you hated Rachel." Sam comments, almost conversationally.

"I thought we went over the rules for music in this vehicle." I scowl. "There are five different music categories in my car, Evans: Spanish rappers, Amy Winehouse or Adele, Rock, Top 40, and lastly no fucking _Justin Beiber!"_

"Uh, San, I'm pretty sure that was six categories..." He coughs, trying to hide his big stupid smile.

"Don't test me, Guppers! I am driving! I can - and I will - throw you out of the car!" I snap, my voice shrill.

There's a good stretch of the road until Sam clears his throat, "And... Santana, don't act like you don't love the Beibs."

"You have no game."

"Awh, c'mon, you wouldn't like me as much if I actually had game."Sam grins his fishy grin.

I flip off the jackass who forgot to use his blinker and act like what Sam said isn't true._  
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><p>I don't really remember much of the legendary Rachel Berry House Party Extravaganza. I know that I'm a 'weepy-girl' drunk. So most of the party is a haze of booze, loud music, my hysterical wailing, and being attached to Sam by the mouth. Surprisingly, he's a pretty good kisser. Or maybe that was the burn of alcohol in my stomach talking, I don't know.<p>

Or maybe it's because he has blond hair and blue eyes, and when the vodka I've been drinking starts to make my vision swirl, he looks like Brittany.

I do kind of remember screaming at Brittany and Sam in Spanish, because they were kissing during spin the bottle. Even sober I'm still not sure who I was being a jealous possessive bitch over.

More likely than not, it was Britt. She is my best friend, my whole world. If Brittany didn't beg me to go to park to feed the ducks, or try to get me to pet her cats, or write _Santana + Brittany = Best Friendz Forever! _on notebook paper during Spanish class, or give me giant hugs all the time... God, I just don't know. I don't know if I could keep going. My parents are kind of separated, at least they don't speak much anymore, I don't know... and everyone else hates me. Brittany is my constant. We love each other unconditionally. I don't really care if she's stupid and she doesn't really care that I'm a bitch.

But... there is a slight chance I was jealous that Sam was get his mack on with some else. Truthfully, Sam and I have an agreement of sorts. We're sort-of-maybe-kind-of-possibly friends. He still insists we're on the road to become BFFs. Which is total shit, I promise. I'm not going soft. We both complain and moan about anything and everything. After our session of bitching about life, we pop in a movie at my house. Sam always lobbies for something stupid like _Avatar_, or _Star Wars._ But I'm trying to cultivate some taste in him for quality entertainment. Like _Mean Girls_.

Mostly, we've bonded over the fact that we're both card sharks. I remeber when I was six or seven and Javier would pull me onto his lap when he played cards with his buddies. He was always telling me what cards made and flush or whatever. I just adored my big brother. Sam and I have played countless games of poker. It usually ends in an argument over who won, when I know that I totally kicked his ass.

Besides the disturbing, stomach-wrenching Brittany-Sam kiss, I definitely remember one thing. One very important thing.

Since Puck broke in to liquor cabinet, we weren't limited to watery wine-coolers, I was wasted. It was like a reenactment of _Hangover_. Well, minus the weird baby...

Sam and I had snuck upstairs, so we were sitting in Berry's guestroom sipping vodka. I was drunkenly trying to talk Sam into a game of strip poker. Sam was denying my slurred pleads, which usually would just piss me off, now had me blubbering like a baby and thrown playing cards at him.

The 'whoa-this-is-so-cool,' feeling of being drunk was wearing off and I just felt so tired. Being drunk wasn't so cool any more, it was just depressing. It was reminding me of my mother, with her slightly wrinkly hands clutching a glass of Scotch.

Blinking back tears, I snap, "Screw you, Sam! I hate you, ass-hole!"

Did I mention I'm also a insanely mouthy drunk? Like more-so than usual.

"San, look," Sam softens instantly, his eyes look troubled under the cloud of alcohol. We've been 'dating', if you can even call it that, for about a week. But Sam's already taken to calling me 'San' or 'Tana' - nicknames usually only Brittany or my brother can get away with. I'm not sure why I'm letting Sam call me by my nicknames. I don't want analyze it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Let's break up," I whisper, fiddling with my big, dangling hoop earrings. Sam is kind of spinning in front of me and I feel oddly vulnerable. It makes me want to punch things.

"What? Why?" He demands, indignantly.

"I'm in love with Brittany, that's why, you bastard!" I nearly scream at him. _Oh, shit..._

If I hadn't just barged out of the closet and admitted my sexuality, I would've probably pulled out my phone to snap a picture of his face, and make it my wallpaper.

"Wh-what?" Sam stutters, looking at me. We're both sobering up, I think, but Sam looks like he couldn't tell if he was just really drunk or if I was really telling the truth.

"I'm bi. I like both guys and girls. Or I'm just greedy. Or whatever." Suddenly, my stomach lurches. Oh, shit. I grab a trash can and empty the contents of my stomach into it. Sam dutifully holds my hair back.

"Gum?" He pulls a packet of Spearmint gum out of his jeans pocket. Nodding, I take a piece and shove in my mouth. I chew vigorously, trying to rid my mouth of the taste of vomit.

"Thanks," I murmur, barely audible. Sam has that look in his eyes. That look that says he wants to talk about our feelings and shit.

"So that's why you hate everyone?" Sam asks, softly, "Because you can't have her?"

"Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner!" I snarl, "Also, I don't hate everyone, Sam. I just think everyone's a dumb ass. Totally different."

"You just proved my point, Tana." He sighs, reprovingly.

"You just proved my point that you're a dick, Trout." I mimic viciously.

Sam huffs, and pops a stick of gum in his trouty mouth, "You're impossible."

It's a sentence I've heard many, many times from many different people.

Mr. Shue rolls his eyes and says it when I correct his Spanish in class.

Brittany says it affectionately with a big grin when I refused to go to an Indigo Girls concert.

My big brother Javier says it when I've done something particularly headstrong.

My mother says it when I've upset for her the billionth time that hour.

"I can't understand why it's _wrong_." The words rush out of my mouth without permission. Maybe it's because I'm still pretty buzzed. "Why people who don't even _know_ Kurt, can look at him and call him that _awful_ name. Or see him and Blaine holding hands and... and... and just_ harass_ them, Sam."

"It's not wrong, Santana. It's not." Sam says firmly, grabbing my arms to steady me. I nearly fall into him. "_They're_ wrong, not us."

"I-I can't understand why it's wrong that I love her!" The bridge of my nose stings like it always does when I'm about to lose it. My eyes prickle and tears slip out.

He just wraps his arms around me while I cry because it's not fair that I can't be in love with Brittany. That if we dated, I'd get the looks and snickers and locker-checks and slushy facials. They'd call us dykes and lesbos and all kinds of shit. They'd make Brittany cry.

Brittany doesn't understand how mean people can be. But I do.

"It's not fair, Sam. It's not fair." I whimper, feeling vulnerable and weak and pathetic. But, surprisingly, I can't bring myself to care.

"Life's not fair, San. It's just a lot fairer than death."

"You stole that quote, didn't you?" I sniffle, almost smiling.

"Psht, you think I made that up?" He asks, laughingly.

I give a lukewarm, watery chuckle and Sam helps me up.

I realize much later that's probably the exact moment we became friends.


	4. Sexy

**So... hi. Just a few things. This chapter is pretty minimal on Samtana and very heavy on Brittana. That's because it's Sexy, and that episode features Brittany and Santana. And their relationship is a big part of this story. But never fear, Samtana is coming back gun blazing next chapter. We get a look at Santana's home life and might even meet some of her family. And not to mention Original Song has Trouty Mouth...This'll be fun!**

**Also sections of this are from the episode. Like Santana's speech, their talk with Holly, and a few bits of the bedroom section.  
><strong>

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone!**

* * *

><p>Brittz and I are sitting on my bed, talking and giggling. I feel like I haven't seen Brittany in months, since she keep ditching me for Artie. And she practically cut me off, which stung more than I thought it would.<p>

But it was all good now. Brittany and I had just scissored. And everyone knows I have a sex drive to rival a politician's. I _need_ it, okay? I reach over to tie her silky blond hair up. Then I sat up a little, applying some lip gloss and straightening out my sheets.

"I missed you," Brittany says, giving me a little smile that makes my heart start beating faster.

"I missed you, too, Britt-Britt." I grin, my pinky linking with hers, "We didn't even make out for, like, a whole week! And, let me tell you, I'm some hot action. We need to be tapping this _way_ more often."

"I really like when we make out, and stuff." Brittz says, in a very matter of fact way.

"Which isn't cheating because...?" I prompt her.

"The plumbing's different." Brittany answer automatically.

"Right!" I beam at her.

Brittany smiles faintly, "Uh, San? I, uh, want to talk about that... About us. Our relationship."

"Brittany," I say warningly. I want us to be together. I do. So much it physically hurts. But... I'm not that brave. Kurt's brave for the shit he went through every day. But I just can't do that.

"We need to talk about it!" She insists, her blond hair falling out of the loose bun I had put it into.

"There's nothing to talk about!" I hiss at her. Doesn't she understand? "How many times do I have to tell you, Brittany? Sex is not dating!"

"But what if we're lesbian dolphins? Or bi-curious?" Britt asks, her voice growing high and confused.

I bristle at the word _lesbian_. "Look, let's be clear here. I'm not interested in any labels, unless it's on something I shoplift."

"I don't know. Santana, I think we should talk to somebody, like an adult. This relationship is really confusing for me." Brittany fiddles with her glass fish earrings, nervously.

"Breakfast is confusing for you!" I snap, angrily.

"Well, sometimes it's sweet, sometime it's salty. Like, what if I have eggs for dinner? Then what is it?"

* * *

><p>"Ladies," Ms. Holliday smiles. Brittany kept insisting we talk to someone. I kept insisting we didn't. But in the end Brittany gave me one look and...well, here we are. Since Miss Holliday is the Sex-Ed teacher - a stupid class, like<em> I<em> need to learn anything about sex - Britt thought we should talk to her. I was against it at first, but Miss Holliday's not going to give us nasty, judgmental looks.

"Miss Holliday," I sigh, "We need your help."

"So... why are we sitting on the floor?" Brittany asks, finally. There's a heart-breathtakingly adorably confused look on her face.

"Because we're in Japan!" Miss Holliday jokes, trying to break the awkward tension in the room. "No, welcome to my sacred, sexy, sharing circle. I want to thank you guys for confiding in me, 'cause I know this is tough. And I want to ask both of you if either one of you thinks that you might be a lesbian."

I froze. Who the hell did this lady thing she is? Yeah, yeah, she's just trying to help, but _really_? I might have came out to Sam, but I wasn't about to come out to Holly fucking Holliday. I was drunk when I came out to Sam and he had earned my trust. Sam managed to weasel his way into my good graces. I have three lists: People I Love, People I Hate, and People I Tolerate. Sam has somehow ended up on the People I Tolerate List.

"I don't know..." Brittz shrugged.

"Yeah, I mean who knows." I say, trying to act as blase and _whatever_ as Britt. "I'm attracted to girls and I'm attracted to guys. I made out with a mannequin. I even had a sex dream about a shrub that was just in the shape of a person, so…"

I bite my lip; better to sound like a slut than a dyke, in the world I live in.

"Hmm, well we've all been there." Miss Holliday nods, "I went to an all girls college where the only industry in the town was the manufacturing of softball equipment... I still feel a little tingle when I hear the name Ani Di Franco... Ooh! Anyway, it's not about who you are attracted to ultimately, it's about who you fall in love with."

"Well, I don't know how I feel because Santana refuses to talk about it." Britt gives me a slightly accusatory look.

"Okay, well I know talking about feelings can be really hard, so I have an idea! Why don't you guys find a song and see if maybe the lyrics of the song could help you start a dialogue going." She suggests, beaming at us.

"I could be down with that." I concede, thinking my brother's old Fleetwood Mac albums, "I have the perfect song. There's just one problem though, Britt and I may need your help to sing it."

"I thought you'd never ask." Miss Holliday grins.

* * *

><p>I feel like Rachel Berry. Pouring my heart out during Glee Club<em>.<em> Singing some sappy song. I feel vulnerable and bare sitting on these wobbly wooden stools, waiting for Brad the Piano Man to start playing the first notes to _Landslide_.

Miss Holliday sings most of the song, leaving Britt and I just to stare at each other.

Miss Holliday clears her throat and gives me a quick smile._  
><em>

_"I took my love and I took it down,_  
><em>Climbed a mountain and I turned around<em>,  
><em>And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills,<em>  
><em>Till the landslide brought me down.."<em>

I wish Brittany and I could be together. I wish we could hold hands and not just have to link pinkies to _'hide the gay'_ like we're ashamed of each other or something. I wish we were just like any other couple.

But I'm afraid. It all comes back to that: I'm so scared. I can't deal with the teasing and the looks. I've worked so hard to be here, to be on top. I can't just forget all the work I did to ensure Brittany and I are untouchable. The Cheerios, the sleeping around, the social pyramid - it was all to keep us safe.

_"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?_  
><em>Can the child within my heart rise above?<em>  
><em>Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?<em>  
><em>Can I handle the seasons of my life?"<em>

I almost miss my cue, I'm too busy staring at Brittany's baby blue eyes. She's so beautiful. Brittany's so perfect, so wonderful. My everything. She's funny, and insightful in a way no one believes. She can dance like a star and someday I'm positive she'll be one. Britt's fearless, in a way that no one else is. She can get up in front of millions of people without a plan and charm them just with her smile.

But Brittany's also innocent. Yeah, she sleeps around as much as I do - or did. But she still has that child-like curiosity and innocence. She's naive. She still believes the world is flowers and rainbows and unicorns. She doesn't understand that people can be mean. That they can hate you for stupid reasons.

That people can hurt you.

_"Mmm, mmm, mmm, Well, I've been afraid of changing_,

_'Cause I've built my life around you,_  
><em>But time makes you bolder,<em>  
><em>Even children get older and I'm getting older too,"<em>

I can see our future - me and Brittany's. We can have a bunch of kids that are sweet and kind and sensitive like her. But street-smart and sassy like me._.. _I'll teach them all how to speak Spanish and Brittz will teach them how to dance. Brittany will be the parent that forgives them. I'll be the parent punishes them. And I'll yell at them when they screw up, but they'll know I'm not that mad_. _They won't grow up in a house like I did. They'll always know Mami loves them no matter what and she'll never just check out, drinking herself into oblivion._  
><em>

_"Oh, take my love, take it down_,  
><em>And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills<em>,  
><em>Well, the landslide bring it down,<em>  
><em>Oh, the landslide bring it down."<em>

By the end of the song I'm blubbering my head off. It's embarrassing and public and I should be red like a sunburn right now... But I can't bringing myself to care about anything other than Brittany right now.

Brittany gives my a tender look_, _"Is that how you really feel?"

"Y-yeah," I sniff.

We collide, a tangle of arms and legs. I just wrap my arms around her neck and cry. Rachel makes some stupid comment about our song, but she can't judge me. Brittany and I just link pinkies, then sit down. Sam grins at me and I give him a watery grin back._  
><em>

"I'm so proud of you." Sam whispers.

I smile at him, "Thanks."_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Brittany is standing at her locker all alone. I suck in air. <em>Now or never, Santana.<em>

"I've realized something," I start, taking a deep breath, looking at Britt. Then I launch right into my speech.

"What I've realized, is why I'm a bitch all the time... I'm a bitch because I'm angry. I'm angry because I have all these_ feelings_. Feelings for you, that I'm afraid of dealing with because I'm afraid of dealing with the... consequences. I want to be with you, but I'm afraid of the _talks_... and the_ looks_. I'm so afraid of everyone will say behind my back... still, I have to accept that I... love you. I love you and I don't want to be with Sam or Finn, or any of those other guys. I just want you. Please say you love me back... _Please_."

I bite my lip, tears gushing down my cheeks. I didn't fit everything into my little impromptu speech, but I can't quite say, _"B, baby, I love you so fucking much. Finn and Puck never meant anything. You're so perfect and I need you more than oxygen. You're the most amazing person I'll ever meet and the most beautiful person i know. I want us to get married someday and we'll live somewhere that we can walk around the streets holding hands. We can have a bunch of kids that look just like you and please, please, please just love me like I love you."_

"Santana... Don't get me wrong, of course I love you. I love, like, more than anyone. But I'm dating Artie and I love him, too." Brittany pauses, sweeping back my hair, "And I don't want to hurt him. If me and Artie ever break up, I'll totally go out with you and be so, so proud to call you my girlfriend."

"No," I whisper. "No, no, no..."

"San-" She starts. But I shake my head. Oh, god... Oh, god... Never... I never imagined it like this. I never imagined her rejecting me like this. She's the one who wanted to talk to Miss Holliday in the first place! She's the one who was confused. Oh, god, Brittany...

I turn and away a run down the hall, my sobs loud and uncontrollable. I sprint out to the parking lot and hide in my car. Mascara tinted tears roll down my cheeks as I clutch the steering wheel, sobbing my heart out.

I cry and cry and cry until I just can't cry anymore. I need to get out of school. _Now_. I need a drink or something. Suddenly, nothing appeals more to me than a bottle of vodka and a box of cigars. I'll just drown my sorrows in alcohol and putrid smoke.

Sniffling, I start my car. The stereo bursts to life, the radio blaring since I left it on.

_"Don't you want me, baby? Don't you want me? Ohhh, woahhhhh!"_


	5. Original Song

**Glee, i.e my love, is back. Hallelujah. Enjoy the update and review please.**

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><p><em>Smash. <em>

My eyes fly open._  
><em>

_Smash._

"It's all your fault!"

_Smash_.

"My fault, Mariana? I'm not the one who's _cheating_!"

I take a deep, shaky breath. _This isn't the the first time you've hear them fighting, Santana, _I tell myself. But the crashes... They always chill my blood. I know when I hear something shattering downstairs Mother is really pissed off. Papi isn't the violent one; she is.

It's just that... Honestly, I wish Javier still lived at home...

I fix my hair into a ponytail, humming the notes to_ Valerie_ under my breath. It's astounding how after for while I can just sit here doing nothing. Just acting like nothing's is out of normal. Getting dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, like routine. But it's just an act. I have a breaking point. Without meaning to, my legs hurl me out of my room and down the stairs. I burst into the kitchen.

A vase holding flowers was knocked over, water spilled all over the floor, a piece of shattered pottery by my mother's high heels. My father is by the sink, his shoulders tense, worry-lines etched in his forehead.

My mother is holding a clay pot covered in little hand prints that my brother and I made her once for Mother's Day. Her hair, immaculate as always, is in a up-do. She's wearing a beige pencil skirt and a dark green blouse. She gives me surprised look, like she forgot she had a teenage daughter in the house. Or that even had one at all.

Mother straightens up and the clay pot slips out of her carefully manicured hands, cracking on the ground. I bite my bottom lip, I remember making that with Javier.

"Oh. Santana." Mother says, a perfectly plucked eyebrow shooting up. She has a disdainfully, Bitch Face on. I hate how we look so alike. I hatethat all the nasty, cruel parts of me are from her.

"_Mija_, I'm sorry you had to walk on this." Papi says, his voice ragged and so tired.

"It's not like I'm deaf. I can hear her throwing things." I whisper, my words sharp like knives.

"Well... I need to be going. I'll give you the address of which I will be staying, so you can send the divorce papers later. Remember, with your money I expect a _large_ alimony, Antonio." Mother announces, concise and business-like, confirming my worst fears. A separation. A divorce.

"Just leave, Mariana." Papi nearly spits at her.

"We'll discuss custody later. I suppose you can have most of it." She offers, making it clear she's not all that concerned about giving up custody of her only daughter. With that she gathers up her coat and purse, then leaves. The front door slams on her way out, and I can hear her Porsche pull out of the driveway.

"Papi-" I take step forward, but my father holds his out.

_"Cuidado, mija!" _Papi warns in Spanish, pointing to the mess on the mahogany wood floor, "There's glass all over."

"She's not coming back is she?" I ask, already knowing the answer to my rhetorical question.

"No, Tana, she's not." He sigh, "But we'll be okay, promise."

Problem is I stopped believing my parent's promises a long time ago.

* * *

><p>"Hey. Can I ask you a question?" Brittany asks, hesitantly, "I feel like we're not as close as we used to be, and I really miss having you as my friend."<p>

I purse my lips, looking away from the lock on my locker. I've had an awful week, with Mother and Papi's impending divorce. Seeing Brittany all cute and clueless, after she chose Artie over me is the last thing I need. "Still waiting for that question..."

"Did-did I do something wrong?" Brittany's giving the hurt puppy dog eyes, but I steel myself.

"I don't know. Did you? All I know is you blew me off for Stumbles McCripplepants." I sap, icily. "Fine. Whatever. Your loss. Now I get the chance to sing an awesome heterosexual song about Sam that we're going to sing at Regionals."

"Wait, you're still dating Sam?" Brittany looks oddly stung for someone who shot me down, "But I thought maybe you liked girls..."

I whip my head around to make sure no one heard Brittany, "Listen, I'm going to be Prom Queen this year. And correct me if I'm wrong, but there's no such thing as a lesbo Prom Queen."

"But... You said you were in love with me." She murmurs, softly. I scowl at her, hiding my broken heart. I want to tell Brittany how I cried for hours after she shot me down, but I don't.

"Honestly?" I try to act like I've already forgotten how I gave Brittany part my soul and she just threw it away in the trash. "I don't even know what I was thinking."

I turn away from Britt, fiddling with my locker. I could feel her stare on me, making my skin heat up.

"Would you mind not staring at me? Please? I can't remember my combo." I sigh, biting my lip.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Shue!" I call out, "I've got a song and it's gonna blow your socks off."<p>

"Okay, Santana, we'd love to see it. " Shuester grins, gesturing for me to get up. Tina also sits down at the piano to accompany me.

"My song is about Sam, _my boyfriend_." I give Brittany a pointed look and smirk. Yeah, I guess using Sam to make Brittany jealous is a bitchy move. Oh, well, I'm a total bitch, so whatever. You can't hide what you are.

_"Guppy Face,_

_Trouty Mouth..."_

Sam's giving a angry_ what-the-fuck?_ face. But I choose to ignore it. He knows what he signed up for when we became friends. I'm monster, I get it. I tear people down and shred out their hopes and dreams.

That's who I am. And I'm okay with it. _Really._

_"Is that how people's lips look like where you come from in the South?_

_Grouper Mouth, _

_Froggy Lips,_

_I love suckin' on those salamander lips."_

Everyone except Sam and Brittany are silently cracking up. Sam's face is stony and impassive. Brittany looks wounded and confused.

_"Wanna put a fish hook in those lips, so cherry red,_

_If ya tried hard enough, you could suck a baby's head!_

_Wooh!"_

Sam jumps up, his face tomato red, "Okay, that's enough!"

"I have more!" I protest as he drags me out of the room, into the hallway. The door shuts with a bang.

"What the hell was that?" He snaps. I've never seen Sam this angry, ever. I don't think I've ever seen him more than annoyed and pissed with my stunts. But this time's different...

Maybe... maybe I went too far.

"That was a..." I stutter, trying to remember I don't say _I'm sorry_, "a song about your abnormally Fishy Lips."

"Shit, Santana, can you stop meddling and bullying people for one second to look up and realize what you say actually_ hurts_ people?"

"I-" Sam cuts my off before I can even get the words out.

"I'm tired of it. I tried to give you a chance." Sam's staring holes through my head, I have to avert my gaze to keep from doing something stupid. "I thought you where a person, Santana. I though we could be friends."

"Sam, please..." I feel oddly broken. I shouldn't be so emotional over loosing Sam. He doesn't matter. He's just a boy. We aren't even really friends.

He sighs, defeated, "I guess everyone's right about you."

I gasp, tears swimming in my eyes. That's the worst thing Sam has ever said to me.

"Look," I say, ignoring the tears rolling down my cheeks, "I've had a really, really shitty week and Brittany- she... doesn't love me back. And my parents... they're getting a fucking divorce because my mom's cheating on my dad... But it's not fair that I take it out on you, 'cause all you ever did is be my friend and... I'm just fucking sorry, okay?"

"I-I didn't know, San." He whispers.

I laugh, hollowly, "Yeah, well, I never told you."

"I'm sorry, too."

"Okay, can you be...whatever we are again?" I impulsively hug Sam, grabbing his neck and burying my head in chest.

"We're best friends, Tana, for reals." He grins a cheesy, big-lipped grin.

"Say that aloud again and I'll smack you back all the way to the ocean you cam from, Aqua Man."

"Psshhht, you know you love me." Sam slings is arm around my shoulders as we proceeded to ditch school.

"Way to ruin the moment, dip-shit." I roll my eyes, shoving him.


	6. Night Of Neglect

**Hey everyone, sorry for not updating in a while. But I would really like some response to this story just to know someone's even reading. Thanks!**

* * *

><p>"You are such a girl." Sam mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. He takes a sip from my soda and then attempts to steal some of my popcorn before I practically growl at him.<p>

"What?" I demand, hugging my bowl of popcorn to my chest. I'm all curled up on the couch in my baggy sweatpants and red McKinley hoodie, clutching a few rumpled tissues in my hand. The box of tissues sits between Sam and I.

"You're crying. _Over a movie_." Sam reiterates, like I'm a small child.

We're watching _Titanic, _because it's an awesome movie. I called Sam and told him to get his ass over to my house because it's always empty on Fridays_._ Papi's always at work because that's all he ever does any more. I remember when I was little he had time for family things on weekends. Soccer games and dinners out - that kind of stuff. But everything got worse when Javier moved out. The screaming fights, the cheating, the never being home. He's a workaholic now. And my mother's an alcoholic. That's makes me wonder what kind of_ holic_ I'll be since both my parents are ones. _  
><em>

"Well, sorry if I'm tearing up, Trout." I growl, shoving more popcorn into my mouth, angrily wiping tears away.

"Tearing up? San, you look Niagara Falls." He snorts, disbelieving.

"It's a sad movie. Just shut the fuck up, _puta_." I snap, throwing a few kernels of popcorn at his head. "And that doesn't make me a 'girl'."

"Uh, you're being ridiculously overemotional. Guys don't get like that. Because we don't have monthly gifts." Sam explains.

"Puh-lease, if anything I can't be described as girly. I'm too busy hiding in The Closet of Hidden Sexuality with my flannel." Ever since I confessed my sexuality and my feelings for Brittany to him, I've been pretty open with Sam. It's weird and new and kind of nice - not that I'd say so out loud. Still, Sam the last person I'd expect to come out of the closet to.

But, hey, life's unexpected, right?

"Yeah, but you have a designer shoe collection to revival Kurt's and you're always wearing skirts and dresses and stuff." Sam points out. "And I've been in your bathroom, Tana, it's scary. It looks like you robbed a beauty brands store."

I guess he's right, in a way. I might look like a total slob right now, with my hair in a messy bun, barely any make up on. But I am a girly-girl at heart. I love wearing dresses, floral prints, feminine jewelry, and fancy high-heels. Yeah, I have a extensive collection of leather jackets and fitted tuxedo jackets, but I love dressing up and putting on make-up.

I nod, lost in thought, "Yeah, well, I never wear plaid flannel. Kurt would kill me."

"Santana... Don't be afraid of your sexuality defining you. It's part of you, but it isn't_ you_." Sam says softly. I hate that. The way Sam can read me so easily.

"Must every conversation we have morph into a conversation about my sexuality?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Screw you."

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, I cough, "Uhh, Fish Boy?"

"Yes, Satan?" Sam grins at me to let me know he's just teasing.

"I was thinking... Would you be up to meeting my bat-shit insane family? It's okay if you don't. Trust me, I get it..." I trail off.

"I'd love to meet you crazy family, Tana. But what about the... divorce?" He says it like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"They have to get along. They have kids." I say shortly.

"Okay... Who all will I meet?" Sam asks.

"Hmmm...My brother, my dad, my mother, and my Aubuela." I think, counting up family members.

"Wait, is that the grandmother who locked you in a freezer, so that's why you're an Ice Queen?" Sam chuckles, remembering something I'd yelled at him over the phone.

"Oh, nah, that grandma kicked the bucket a while ago." I correct him, nonchalantly.

* * *

><p>"I'm so fucking scared right now it's not even funny." Sam exhales, his feet tap-dancing on the floor of the passenger seat side of my car.<p>

I roll my eyes, flipping on my blinkers, "Nut up or shut up, Sammy Boy."

Honestly? I fail to see what Sam is oh-so worried about. Yeah, my family's nut-so. But Sam has been hanging around with me these past few months. He has gotten a lot tougher, he dealt with me while I'm PMS'ing. After that, I daresay, he's ready to take of King fucking Kong.

My Aubuela is sweet, if a little bit nosy. And she think Elvis is still alive... but other than that, she's fine. Javier is charming enough to even out my Mother's cold, ruthless demeanor and my Father's lame jokes.

I've met Sam's All-American, apple-pie family, so it's only fair. Sam's parents were very normal - bland even. His mother is thin and blond and smiles too much. His dad was balding and called him things like _champ_ or _buddy_. No one over four foot should ever be called _tiger_ ever. I'm serious. _Ever._ Sam also has two bratty, blond, ankle-bitin' siblings - Stevie and Stacey.

I pull up into my driveway, turn off the ignition. Sam's face turn slightly green.

"Welcome, my dear Trout, to Casa de Lopez!" I announce, stepping out of my car, "With my family inside!"

I swear, Sam looks around frantically like he's marking his exits in case of disaster. Rolling my eyes, I grab his arm and drag his inside.

As soon I fling open the door, my Aubuela practically attacks us. Aubuela is very, very short - almost Berry sized. She has big brown eyes, like mind, and a big lipsticked smile. Her flowery jacket matches the big, albeit, rather gaudy earrings she's wearing.

She might not be the most fashionable or elegant grandmother out there, but she's mine and I love her.

My little old grandma shuffles over, her arms wide open, "_Santanita, amour mio!_ _Cómo es usted, mi pequeña muchacha?"_

"_Aubuelita,_ English,_ por favor_." I smile, wiggling out of her tight embrace. "And I want to introduce you...this is Sam. My friend."

She gets a little secretive look on her face, "You friend Sam, eh? Are you sure he's just a friend, Tana?"

"Yes, Aubuela, I'm sure." I sigh at my grandmother's not so subtle attempts to find me a man. What she doesn't know is she's looking in the completely wrong gender for my significant other.

"But you never know, _amour._ He could be the Tony to your Maria!" My grandma grins, Spanish peppering her English.

"Aubuela! He is just a friend!" I cry, as Sam laughs his head off nest to me. Good to see_ he's_ lost his apprehension about meeting my family!

"Oh, if you say so, Santana..." She throws a wink at Sam. Embarrassed, I busy myself with straightening my headband.

Just then my mother, high heels clicking, storms out of the hallway. My frazzled father follows after her.

"I just don't see why I need to be her to meet one of her little friends, Antonio! You-" The both stop short when they see Sam and I standing there, dumbstruck. Sam reaches for my hand, squeezing it in support. I give him a grateful, thank-god-you're-my-best-friend look.

"Mother." I say shortly, because there's really nothing to be said.

"Oh. Santana." She says tonelessly, just like she always does. I know I invited her to come meet Sam, but I didn't expect her to show. She's been MIA ever since she left that morning, broken glass and hearts in her wake. It's been good in a way. Papi's home a lot more. I'm happier now...

But she's still my only mother.

"This is Sam." I say, cutting off the circulation in his hand.

"Hello." She say crisply, making no move to shake Sam's hand.

"Uh, Santana, _mija._" My father smiles nervously, "How about you take your Aubuela and Sam into the living room?"

I nod, herding them into the next room. But I can still hear my parent's words.

"I think I need to leave, Antonio." I hear my mother. I can clearly imagine her smoothing out her beige pant-suit.

"Oh, no you don't." Papi snaps at her, "You can divorce me. That's fine. But don't you dare hurt our children with this. They need their mother. It's not their fault it happens to be someone like you."

I gulp, as Sam mouths_ I'm so sorry, Tana._ I shake my head. It's okay. Really.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk, Javier bursts in. i leap up and fling myself into his arms.

"San! How's my little sis?" He booms, his eye wild and happy.

"I'm great, you're here now." I beam. "What about you, Javi?"

"I'm good, I'm good." He runs his hand through his dark unruly curls. He's still in his police uniform, his badge shining. I was always so proud of him and his job. My big brother, Javier the cop. "Where's Britt?"

I love how well Javi and Brittz get along but she's currently ignoring me for Artie...

"This is Sam, he came instead. Brittany is busy." I can't keep the sour tone out my voice, "She has a boyfriend."

"Oh, okay. Well, hi Sam!" My brother gins at Sam, "I'll be sure to get to know you really well."

"Javier Antonio he is just a friend!" I hiss.

"Yeah, so was Puckerman, right?"

Well, I don't have a response for that, unfortunately.

Soon enough, Aubuela pops out of the kitchen and demand we all come be fed. After she fusses over Javier for a while, we all sit down. I position myself next to Sam and across from Javier. My parents walk in, silently.

Once, everyone's seated, Javier clears his thorat, "So, Sam... Have you gotten any girls pregnant?"

"Javier!" I shriek at him, my eyes shooting daggers at him. Both my parents act like they haven't heard, but my grandmother is laughing her head off.

"Wh-what?" Sam sputters, nearly choking on his chicken. I smack his back a few times so he gets in down.

It's going to be a long night.


	7. Born This Way

**Sorry, I didn't update sooner. School, life, and people all conspire against me, apparently.** **I hope you guys like it!**

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><p>I gulp down my shot of espresso, as I sit alone in the corner table of the Lima Bean. I really hope Porcelain and Harry-Potter-in-a-blazer don't show up here, and see me with Karofsky. I don't even know how I'd explain that one. Before I can analyze it further, Karofsky walks in.<p>

"Sup, Lopez." Karofsky throws himself into the chair across from me. "Knew you'd call me up sooner or later. I'm a bit of stud with the ladies."

"Oh, _dios Mios_, shut up." I snap, rolling my eyes in annoyance, "Let's be real here, Frank'n'Beans. Look, I know you were checking out my boy Sam's ass and undressing his trouty self with your mind."

"What?" Karofsky sputters, his eyes widened in shock, "I-I-I... was just seeing what brand his jeans were!"

"Oh, and that makes it any less gay." I laugh, tap-tap-tapping my perfectly manicured nails on the table.

"I'm not gay!" He hisses at me, his eyes flashing.

I feel bad for Karofsky, in a way, I really do. I would be freaking the fuck out if someone was this candid with me about my sexuality. But this must be done. Sam can't get me Prom Queen votes. He let his white and nerdy out, which I tried so hard to discourage, but there's no stopping that boy and his undeniable dorky-ness. And I _need_ to be Prom Queen. If I'm Prom Queen, I'll convince Britt to be with me by saying it's practically Prom-law. Artie will be out of the picture completely.

Everything will perfect when the plastic crown's on my head and Brittany's on my arm.

I chuckle, knowingly, "It's okay, I understand. Sammy's fine. I'd totally tap that if we weren't, like, best friends or if I was straight."

"You're not...?"

I glanced around quickly, then lowered my voice, "We play for the same team, okay? The only straight I am is straight-up bitch."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"If you stop being such a douche, I can help you. You can... you can talk to me. Karofsky, I accept you as the homophoic gay bastard you are. And I wants to be Prom Queen, understood? I need a running mate. Sam's great, lips and all, but you're Mr. Manly Man, even if you're probably fantasizing about Kurt in his skin tight skinny jeans."

"And what do I get out of all of this?" He demands.

"I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret and you'll be Prom King. What more could you want?" I raised an eyebrow, "All I need you to do is make it safe for Kurt to come back to McKinley, you need repent all your misdeeds and give up your former jocky ways."

Really, I would never out Karofsky. If I was outed... I just don't if I could handle that right now. But it's a good bargaining piece.

"No!" Karofsky hissed, "I can just as easily tell everyone about you being a lesbo. You've got a lot a stake here, Lopez."

I swallow. He's right, I do have a lot at stake. And this isn't going as planned.

"Really? Because my daddy's a rich doctor, money shuts people up. What do_ you_ have to shut people up?"

I can see it. I've won. Karofsky can't find a way out.

"So, here's how it's gonna go. Apologize to Kurt then get him back from fucking Hogwarts. He'll come back, sprinkling his magical fairy boy dust over everyone, and you attribute it all to me making you see the light, got it?"

"Okay, Lopez, I'll do it. But tell _anyone_ and the deal's off. And we aren't talking about... _this_." Karofsky says, harshly.

"Good."

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><p>My phone starts blaring <em>I'm Sexy And I Know It,<em> while I'm revising my European History essay on my bed. That's how I know it's Sam calling me. He apparently thought the song fit him, so he set it as his caller ID ringtone. I didn't want to comment, since he was lecturing me about the whole _"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all,"_ rule. I'd never abided by that particular rule and I wasn't about start now, but if it shut Sam's fishy mouth up, I was happy to play along.

"Sup," I let the _'P'_ pop, like I'm smacking bubble gum.

"Hey, San, what's up?"

"Obviously not your IQ if you're calling me after you met my insane family." I sigh. It wasn't all that bad, I guess. If you just forget Javier asking everything about Sam short of demanding he take a drug test. I mean, I guess he had reason to worry, I _did_ get caught with Puck once or twice. But I said numerous times that Sam was just my friend, which no one seemed to believe. Then my grandmother showed off photo of me as a baby, naked in the tub. I mean, I was the best looking baby on this side of the Mississippi, but really? And let's not forget my stony, impassive mother and my silent father!

"Seriously, you're still worried your family scared my to death?" He chuckles into the phone. I can picture him, flipping his way too long blond out of his eyes.

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Don't over-analyze shit, Aqua Man." I scoff, tapping my pen against my notebook.

"If you bothered checking your phone you would notice I've been texting you all day. My parents are shutting off our unlimited plan, so I figured I'd make the most of the end of it." Sam says. I wonder why his parents are ending their unlimited plan, but something in Sam's voice keeps me from asking.

"Oh, damn. I was busy." I curse, realizing I hadn't checked my cell at all today. What if Brittany texted saying Wheel was an awful, ugly, nerdy little shit and she dumped his ass because she realized she was in love with me? Then we could be together and get our mack on. Yeah, it doesn't seem very plausible, but it could have happened. I am holding out hope it eventually did.

"Oh?" I can practically hear the smug little smirk in his voice, "So, you and Brittany made up, huh?"

What is he? A fucking mind-reader?

"No, we did not." I snap, crisply, "I was not having sex with Britt, you asshole! Get your mind out of the gutter, Evans!"

Sam crooned into the phone,"But you want to!"

"So what if I do?" I bit out, snarkily.

Sam laughs, "So, where were you, Miss Lopez?"

"At the Lima Bean." I say shortly. Everyone hates Karofsky because he drove Kurt out McKinley and it won't look good if I was fraternizing with the_ 'enemy'_.

"With Blaine and Kurt?" Sam asks, "I miss Kurt, he's funny. And Blaine's a good guy."

I cough, "Uh, no."

"Then who were you there with?" Sam questions me.

I wish I could just drop the subject, but I know Sam will just keep hounding me, so I blurt out, "Karofsky."

"...Karofsky?" There's no anger in his voice yet, just confusions.

"Hear me out, okay?" I say quickly, "He's gay, Sam. He lashed out because he's scared and confused just like me."

"He's gay?" Sam gasps, "Are you sure?"

"Well, he was checking our your ass and I have awesome gaydar."

"_Wait,_ what?"

"Apparently you're hot shit, Sammy." I snort sarcastically.

"So, what happened?" He prods, ignoring my comment.

"Well," I sigh, "I offered my services as Auntie Tana, Guru for the sexuality-confused, but surprisingly he declined."

_"Surprisingly?"_

"Who wouldn't want me as their super hot lesbian fairy godmother?" I ask, rolling my eyes as if he could see me, "And I asked him be my running partner for Prom Court, but he didn't want to, douche bag. Anyways, I blackmailed him into apologizing to Kurt. And, you King of Nerds, are now my running mate. Congratulations, Fishy Lips."

"Oh, great."

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><p>"Hey," Brittany bounds up to me and flings open her purple jacket, revealing her Born This Way shirt. It says in big, bold lettering: <strong>I'M WITH STOOPID<strong>, "Do you like my shirt for Glee Club?"

"Perfect." I beam at the tall, leggy blond in front of me. We've mended our friendship, part way. Sometimes Brittany tries to bring up_ it_, but I always change the subject. I... I can't deal with rejection right now. I can't... "Check out mine."

I unzip my jacket to reveal the words** BITCH** emblazoned on my shirt. I smirk, because this shirt is so true. But Brittany looks a little disappointed.

"What?" I frown, "This is perfect. Legend has it when I came out of my mother I told the nurse she was fat."

"Well, I made a different one for you." She announces, pulling out a white t-shirt that says **LEBANESE **on it.

"Britt, I'm Hispanic." I correct her, but stop. A horrible realization washes over me, "Wait... was that supposed to be _lesbian_?"

"Yeah," She double-checks the shirt, "Isn't that what it says? When you told me all that stuff the other week... it meant so much to me. To see you be so honest. Especially because I know how bad it hurt. I was so proud of you, Santana."

I scowl. If she was _so_ proud of me and knows how bad her rejection hurt, why did she still shoot me down?

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it and certainly don't think about telling anyone." I glance around the hallway quickly. Someone could've heard Brittany.

"Why not? You are like the awesomest girl at this school, San. Why would you try to hide any of that?"

I suck in air, "I'm still 'dating' Sam. And I'm going to be Prom Queen."

"It's wrong. Because that isn't who you are." She frowns, her lips quivering.

"You don't get a say in who I date anymore!" I spit out harshly. Even though I'm not really dating Sam, she doesn't get a say in who my beard is either!

"Why not? Because you're a lesbian and I'm bi-curious?" Brittany whimpers, her blue eyes boring holes in me.

"No, because I said I love you and you didn't say you love me back!" I hiss, furious and close to tears.

Brittany glares at me angrily, "I _do_ love you. Clearly you don't love you as much as I do or you would put the shirt on and dance with me!"

She throws the shirt at me and storms off, while I just stand there.

Why can't I do anything right?


End file.
